


Under the Morning Sun

by Synchron



Category: Bloodborne (Video Game)
Genre: F/M, Pining, RIP, Tragic Romance, Vivienne gets booted to the Nightmare, angst????, brief mentions of violence???
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-17
Updated: 2019-09-17
Packaged: 2020-10-20 14:18:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,160
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20676791
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Synchron/pseuds/Synchron
Summary: "Do you remember where to meet?""Under the morning sun."





	Under the Morning Sun

**Author's Note:**

> This is an incredibly self indulgent piece that I've been wanting to write for literal years LMAO. I have a couple of OCs for Bloodborne, all of which are for a time a few generations before the game takes place, and so none of them are actually based on the player hunter that you make at the beginning of the game. These OCs are all from Ludwig's time, because I'm hella obsessed with that period of Yharnam's history and culture. It endlessly fascinated me and kind of inspired me to seriously start writing.
> 
> Basically I love Bloodborne a whole lot, I can't tell you how many hours I've devoted to this game, it's downright shameful ldfskj.
> 
> I hope you enjoy this piece?!

"Do you remember where to meet?"  
  
"Under the morning sun."  
  
In the midst of Yharnam's macabre atmosphere, where citizens lock themselves up in their homes during Hunts, praying to whatever meagre gods they can find that the Scourge will not encroach on their wellbeing, that the Healing Church's Hunters will not come knocking, sincere exchanges such as this are an increasing rarity. Perhaps once, Yharnam was warm and kind, but with the Healing Church's establishment, with the discovery of the Old Blood, arrogance and obsession descended on the port town like a plague. It hangs as thick and heavy in the air as the hazy incense that Yharnamites are always burning on nights of the Hunt. It wards away the beasts, they say, keeps the Scourge at bay, they say. If only the same could be said of their insular ways.  
  
Claude hefts his greatsword over his shoulder, the blue markings of the hulking thing appearing almost black in the blood red glow of dusk. To him, it's a sure sign that this Hunt will be another long one. It seems he feels that way with every Hunt he takes part in these days. The time between them grows shorter, while their duration only ever increases, and he idly thinks that the rumours around town, spoken only in hushed voices and harsh whispers, of Yharnam's impending doom may be true after all. With a resigned, but soundless sigh, Claude adjusts the Church's Holy Shawl that hangs at his back, and then regards his companion once more, offering up a wry smile.  
  
Vivienne doesn't see the humour in it. She never has - a humourless Yharnamite through and through, she is. "Must we make this promise every Hunt?" She doesn't look to her friend as she speaks, instead keeping her eyes trained on the large steel gate that opens the way to the rest of the city. It's so like her, Claude thinks to himself, the way she's always looking forward, but that's a given when the man she admires is very much the same way. Though admiration would be putting it mildly - Claude would daresay that what Vivienne holds for Ludwig, the Holy Blade borders on fierce idolisation and blind loyalty. Two very dangerous things, given what he knows of the Church. But it isn't her fault. It isn't Ludwig's either. It's that damn, cursed Blood.  
  
His smile turns a little sad, but she doesn't see it. Of course she doesn't. "You're under no obligation to indulge me, and yet you respond with the correct answer each time." And that alone is enough for him to know that Vivienne can still come around. He just needs to try harder to convince her, because if she stops imbibing in that horrid sanguine toxin now, if she leaves Yharnam _ now _ , maybe… maybe she can still be saved. Maybe they can still…  
  
Vivienne actually does turn to look at him now, and even in the overbearing glow of the late afternoon sun, her eyes still shine a lustrous green. He loves that colour on her. He loves _ her _ .  
  
"If I don't, you would continue to badger me until I give you what you want." Though her tone borders on monotonous, one corner of her lips twitches upward, and her eyes glitter with a certain playfulness Claude feels like he hasn't seen in an age.  
  
He opens his mouth to respond in kind, but is interrupted by the rolling toll of the great bells of the Astral Clocktower, signifying the beginning of tonight's Hunt. All around them, other Church Hunters begin to stir, adjusting their weapons, pulling up their face masks, shifting their weight from one foot to the other in anticipation of the night's events, because the _ smell _ alone is enough to rile them, to intoxicate them.  
  
_ "It's enough to make a man sick." _  
  
With a tired groan, the imposing steel gate lifts open, and the crowd begins to march through, with Ludwig at the forefront. Claude feels something tug at his arm, and when he looks down, he sees Vivienne's gloved hand gripping his wrist, sliding upwards to curl her fingers around his forearm. It's out of instinct that Claude immediately returns the gesture - an intimate handshake as firm as the promise they always make to each other before the night begins.  
  
There's still time, he thinks. He _ can _ still save her.  
  
Isn't that what he left the Dream to do?  
  
  


* * *

  
  
"Do you remember where to meet?"  
  
"...under the morning sun."  
  
The promise is exchanged as always, amongst the quiet but always excited murmurs of the other Church Hunters around them. But Claude can see it in the dark circles under her eyes, in the way that brilliant green grows more dull with each passing day. She's running out of time.  
  
_ "Please leave with me." _ He'd softly pleaded into her hair not quite two hours ago as they lay together, their love all but spoken out loud, all but confirmed - Yharnam isn't a place for such trifling things anymore, it hasn't been so for a long time. But if they left…  
  
_ "No." _ Was her stout, resolute reply as she untangled herself from him, pulling her hair back into its usual ponytail. _ "That would be heresy, Claude." _  
  
_ "Is it still heresy when the Church has been misleading us so?" _  
  
"Yes."  
  
The great bells toll, the steel gate screeches open, and when Ludwig marches forward, Vivienne shakes Claude's hand, her grip faltering somewhat, and then wordlessly follows with a flutter of her Holy Shawl, hoisting her Kirkhammer upon her back.  
  


* * *

  
  
"Do you remember where to meet?"  
  
"..."  
  
Claude felt hope when, in the last few days, Vivienne's condition seemed to improve. The colour returned to her complexion, and she seemed to be eating better, but she'd also become twitchy, jumpy, always in a state not unlike that of a coiled spring - full of adrenaline and always ready to strike. But her lack of a response is otherwise telling. Her eyes no longer look forward. At least not towards any horizon on their plane of existence, because it's too late for her now - the Blood has taken her. There's a hollow pain in Claude's chest at the realisation of it, one so profound, carved so deep into his flesh that were it in the nature of a Yharnamite to cry, he would.  
  
He hears the bells. Watches the gate open. Watches Vivienne ignore and then stagger away from his extended hand, far too eager to sink her silver sword deep into the body of whatever flesh hungry beasts now roam the slums of Yharnam, and all Claude can do from here is watch.  
  
When the sun rises over Yharnam the next day, peeking over the horizon and glinting off the blood that soaks the streets, chasing away the darkness and the madness from the night before, Claude rests his blade beside him, and waits for Vivienne to uphold her end of their promise.  
  
He waits all day.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading!!! 😭❤️


End file.
